


Perfect Pretenders

by Dissapointed_weirdo



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Smut, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Happy Ending, Kind Of A Mystery?, Kind of enemies to lovers, M/M, Minor Scott McCall/Kira Yukimura, Mutual Pining, No Beta We Die Like The Hale Family, Stupidity, THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, at the highest level, but they still find each other super hot lmao, dammit everything is unresolved, grandma knows all, i mean they hate eachother, pls ignore the typos lmao, roadtrip ish, songfic ish
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:13:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25609441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dissapointed_weirdo/pseuds/Dissapointed_weirdo
Summary: "Well?" The werewolf gruffed out, and did Stiles imagine it, or did he look a little embarrassed? "Take it."He looked down to find his absolute favourite soda in his hands, chilled water running down it's sides."I...thanks."The werewolf turned as if to hide his face, but Stiles had seen him in the rearview mirror. Derek's lips split into another smile, a little bigger than last time, that looked so incredibly shy and sweet. So at odds with his stony, usually lifeless expressions.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 8
Kudos: 27





	1. Just like in the movies

**Author's Note:**

> Just so ya know: Stiles is 18 in this, and Derek is about 20-21. The last time he saw his grandmother was when he was 2.  
> This is my first ever work in this fandom, I came across teen wolf on Netflix and could not stop watching it lmao.
> 
> the title is from a song called 'strangers' by Sigrid. All her music is amazing, please do yourself a favour and check her out!

_Dear Stiles,_

_You probably don't remember me, considering the last time I saw you was 16 years ago. I'm sorry I haven't kept in contact. Life has a habit of getting in the way, but I'm sure you understand that better than most._

_It must have been especially hard losing your mother, and whilst I made plans to meet you, those plans were quickly threatened. And so, I've decided now's the time I finally greet you. Feel free to bring your girlfriend or boyfriend, god I can't wait to meet you two!_

_I live in Bend, Oregon. Just say the word and I'll have my personal chauffeur pick you up and bring you here, unless you would like to come to my home yourself._

_Take care sweetie,_

_Grandma._

Stiles read the email over and over again, making sure his eyes weren't deceiving him. Grandma?

Whilst he would like to think he was pretty well-acquainted with his mother's side of the family, he sure as hell didn't know about some secret grandmother. She already seemed to be intimidating. Some of her words made him shiver slightly. _Life has a habit of getting in the way, but I'm sure you understand that better than most. It must have been especially hard losing your mother._

But the worst sentence came after, giving him that horribly cold feeling.

_Feel free to bring your girlfriend or boyfriend._

He glared at the screen as if it had done him a personal wrong. It stared back mockingly, and Stiles bristled slightly. He hadn't had a hookup in forever. But nobody really caught his eye recently, nobody felt good enough pursuing.

Except for a certain dark-haired, green-eyed hunk.

Sighing, he threw himself on his bed, bringing his forefinger and thumb to clasp the bridge of his nose.

"Dad?"

It was almost comical how quickly his father came. His blonde hair was only slightly ruffled, and his glasses sat crookedly on his nose. He had that weary look on his face. The wrinkles in between his eyebrows had become even deeper, and a piece of spaghetti dangled on his cheek.

Stiles coughed, voice rough from his dry throat. "Who the hell is _grandma_?"

His dad's eyes widened, and he blinked rapidly.

"How did you know about her?"

" _Why_ didn't I know about her?" Stiles sat up. "Is she a, supernatural beast or something?"

His father huffed in amusement, coming to sit on the bed.

"Esther is...abrasive, to say the least. She can be a little obnoxious."

"So you've hidden her from me because she's annoying, that it?"

His dad opened his mouth to say something but cut himself off, brows furrowing. "Yeah, that's about it."

Stiles tried to look angry, he really did. But watching the smirk on his father's face made him cackle; he shook his head in awe.

"Stiles, how did you..?"

"Oh," he pointed to the laptop. "She sent me an email."

The older man got up and quickly skimmed through it, typing in some complex-looking commands.

"Well, this comes from a reliable source, it's her alright." Then he turned and gave Stiles a sheepish expression, shrugging his shoulders. "Maybe you should go, spring-break is coming up."

"Yeah." He said decisively.

"Maybe I will."

***

It was dark in Derek's old home, but the lack of light never stopped him from ogling the werewolf.

He was dressed in his usual attire: slim fitting jeans, a blue henley and dark leather jacket. So normal, so casual. Yet every inch of muscle was perfectly accentuated. The way his jacket hugged his biceps, those jeans that showed strong thighs, the swell of his ass-

"Stiles? Hellooo?"

He snapped his head up at the sound, smiling sheepishly.

"Sorry, what was that?"

Lydia smirked knowingly and tracked her gaze towards Derek. As if she knew _exactly_ what he was thinking.

"I was just asking about the recent paranormal activity."

"Well, it's Beacon Hills." He said in confusion. "We should be used to it by now."

Isaac rolled his eyes. "No smartass. Supernatural events have been going on all over the west. We're talking over 5 states."

Stiles blinked once.

"You're telling me over 5 states have witches and werewolves?"

Isaac lifted his shoulders to shrug. "More or less."

Derek walked towards the large table. His eyes full of determination, and maybe fear. Staring at him now Stiles noticed just how stiff he looked, his muscles were incredibly tense, hands gripping the wooden table so hard he worried the werewolf would break it.

Then Derek let his shoulders lax. "Which state has the most possible threats of all?"

"A tie between Oregon and Idaho." Allison states. "My dad found an omega, it was going absolutely crazy. Rambling about the dangers in those two states."

Oregon. Grandma.

Oh, for the love of God.

"Uh." Stiles muttered softly, so softly he was sure nobody heard him. But then Derek looked up. Pale, green eyes staring at him so intensely, as if he could he see right through him.

Fuck, he was gorgeous. It was the worst thing about him.

"I could go." Stiles said a little louder. "Not doing anything for spring break anyway."

Scott put his hands on his hips, fretting over him like mother hen. "Go where? There are really dangerous things out there-"

"Oregon," Stiles cut him off harshly. "I know some people, I could crash in their home and do some surveillance."

"I'm with Scott on this one." Allison agreed. "We don't know what you would be up against. Stiles, the omega was _terrified._ "

Kira pulled out her blade, tracing the sides with her fingers. "If this is really happening all over the west," she sheathed her sword. "Then we can't be singling ourselves out to danger."

Stiles gritted his teeth. He loved that they cared for him, really he did. But sometimes all he ever wanted to do was punch through walls and rip all their fucking heads off. Part of him knew for a fact that he reeked of anger. He could see Scott and Isaac wrinkle their noses, and the apologetic look on his best friend's face. Derek, on the other hand, decided to continue what he does best.

Being a complete asshole.

"That," Derek growled slightly. "Is an incredibly stupid idea. Not to mention reckless."

Stiles turned to face him, eyes wide with silent fury. "Funny, seeing as you're an expert in stupid." He pointed an accusing finger as he spoke, ignoring the exasperated and somewhat nervous looks from everyone. It was common knowledge that Derek and he did not get along. And Stiles also knew with glee that he was the one person who could _really_ rile the werewolf up.

Smirking, he took a step forward and watched as Derek clenched and unclenched his fists, eyes never leaving his. It was shocking just how quickly the two were at each other's throats. Stiles was proud to admit he was very likeable, but when he realised he couldn't charm his way to Derek, he settled on antagonizing him as much as possible. Was creating animosity between team mates bad? Yes. Was angering someone who could easily rip him apart plain stupid? Yes.

But that was Stiles. Defying the odds at any cost, whilst being an idiot at the same time. It was a talent.

And he may have been reading things horribly wrong, but he always managed to see something heated whenever the werewolf glared at him. Almost...lustful.

Derek's jaw tightened. "You're a mortal Stiles. An intelligent and resourceful one, yes, but still human." The taller man still looked pissed, but there was genuine concern in his eyes. He continued. "Whatever evil things are out there, they could tear you limb from limb." Derek had taken a step towards him with every word, and Stiles' eyebrows raised when he noticed their face's were inches away from each other. Lips achingly close.

He barely even registered the compliment Derek had given him, too engrossed in staring at the werewolf's hulking figure.

Allison and Lydia immediately noticed the sexual tension, and had the audacity to giggle slightly. Scott and Isaac however, walked towards them in the hopes of preventing a beating or fight. And right now, Stiles shamelessly imagined the only fight the two of them would have would be to see who could rip the other's clothes off faster.

Scott came between them and Stiles let his gaze drop. "Let's call this meeting off. We can discuss tactics later."

Everyone muttered in agreement, leaving the old Hale house one by one. Isaac practically jumped at the chance to escape, Kira and Scott were walking hand in hand, bodies so close Stiles was certain they were glued together. Allison gave Stiles a smile, and gave Derek a scowl. Lydia was the last to go, twirling her strawberry blonde hair and flicking her eyes between Derek and he. She stared at Stiles and waggled her eyebrows suggestively, and Stiles ran a finger across his throat.

Soon it was just him and the werewolf.

"I'll go with you."

Stiles visibly startled at the sound, but managed to regain balance.

"What?"

Derek spat out the words again; as if they caused him physical pain. "I'll go with you. To Oregon."

He could have been smug, or disgusted at the thought, instead he was curious. "Why on _earth_ would you want to do that?"

Derek turned to face the opposite wall, taking in the entire house. The burned floorboards. The soot-covered bannisters. Stiles could see beyond the werewolf's usual scowl, he could see the pain in those green eyes. He cursed himself for being so damn empathetic.

"I need to.. I need to get away for a bit." Derek confessed. Bravely staring at Stiles as he did so. "It'll be nice to leave Beacon Hills for a while, however short of a time."

"You do realise Oregon is about 8 hours away, right? You would be stuck in a car with me, Stiles. Stilinski."

The taller man rolled his eyes in annoyance.

"I have weighed the pros and cons of this little trip, yes."

Stiles shook his head in disbelief. "And you somehow managed to come out with more pros than cons? You hate me, Derek."

Maybe he was imagining it, but Derek's face seemed to fall slightly, before quickly resuming a stoic expression.

"You'll know the area, and I'll be there for muscle. Someone needs to check that place out."

Stiles took a deep breath. Agreeing to let the werewolf come, he said his goodbyes as fast as he could.

"And Stiles?"

He stopped. A hand on the doorframe, seconds from leaving.

"I never hated you."

Stiles left.

***

"Ok spill. What the fuck is up with you and Derek?"

It was about 10 at night. Lydia and he were in some bar, vodkas in hand. She had been texting him non-stop after the meeting, and Stiles decided on how best to answer her burning questions.

Being to drunk enough to care.

He was on his 4th shot, ignoring the concerned look on the bartender's face when he asked for 4 more.

"To hell if I know," he downed the drink and wiped his mouth. "We're fighting one minute, then he agrees to come with me the next."

Lydia paused mid-drink, slowly putting her glass down. She had a wicked smile on her face. 

"Why would Derek Hale, _the_ Derek Hale, decide to spend almost ten hours stuck in a car with you?" Her smile grew. "And then also decide to spend a week with you. In a completely different state??"

Stiles blinked. Scott, Allison and Isaac had they same reaction when he'd talked to them about Derek's and his little road trip. At the time, he just thought it was some kind of stupid excuse to protect him or something. But even then, why would the werewolf agree to go with him? Derek may not have hated him. Or despised him. But he definitely didn't like him very much, that was certain.

Drowsily, he lowered his shot and put his head in his hands. Usually, when someone got drunk, they would be the total opposite of their actual personality. If you were originally uptight, you would become laidback. If you were usually calm, you would get more irritable more quickly.

Stiles, on the other hand, became an extended version of himself. Even more sarcastic, even more cognitive, even more intelligent.

Thinking about this...it was too much to process.

"Lydia, I have no fucking idea," his voice was muffled. "If you want to find out so badly, ask sourwolf yourself."

Stiles didn't see the fond but sad expression on his friends' face. "I might. Come on, let's get out of here."

The two of them tipped the bartenders and walked out.

"See ya after Oregon." He hugged her tightly, sighing against her hair.

"Oh stop being so dramatic. It's gonna be fine." Lydia laughed and pinched his cheeks. "Just a week with a super hot werewolf."

"Yeah," Stiles drawled sarcastically. "Just a week. 168 hours, 10,080 minutes."

She threw herself on him again. "Shut. Up."

After they said their goodbyes, Stiles walked aimlessly and prepared to cross the street. He shoved his freezing hands in the pockets of his jeans, but let the cold wind fan over his burning face. He waited for a few more seconds and scanned the road before crossing it. Whistling, he perked up when he felt mint mojito gum, clasping it in his hands.

_Eh. There's no cars. One won't hurt._

He stopped and pulled the contents out of his pocket, unwrapping it open with ease. He noticed it was slightly stale; but continued to chew happily.

What he _didn't_ notice were the blaring yellow lights, coming nearer and nearer-

"Stiles!"

He turned towards the source of noise but was promptly introduced the cold floor. Someone was on top of him, holding his body close through panted breathes.

"Woah," he muttered groggily. "Thanks dude."

"What the hell were you doing?" A voice spat. "You could've been killed out there!"

Stiles had the nerve to giggle. "You'd be surprised at how many life-threatening experiences I've had." He wiggled slightly in the man's grasp, only making him grip tighter.

"Hey hero? Could you maybe, oh I don't know, let me go?"

"You're an idiot." Green eyes stared down at him. Derek's eyes.

For fuck's sake.

None of them had even bothered moving. Stiles could see toned thighs on either side of his body, and how Derek's ass was just hovering over his crotch. But of course, with the man's stupidly sexy face and stupidly sexy lips inches away from his, his dick had decided to play games. The werewolf continued to glare at him, and Stiles' heart skipped at the look. Just because he thought Derek was an asshole didn't mean he wasn't still unfairly attractive.

The taller man rolled off of him, making Stiles shiver at the loss of warmth. Shaking his head he quickly got up, wrapping his arms to shield himself from the cold.

"You're cold." The other said dumbly.

"No, I'm fucking boiling."

Derek rolled his eyes. Stiles watched in utter shock as the other shrugged off his jacket, and he cursed himself for finding such a simple action so hot.

"Here," Derek shoved the leather jacket in his hands, wearing that impossibly bored expression. As if giving Stiles his jacket wasn't the biggest cliche in teen romances. And this was so... _gentlemanly_ of him.

Stiles held the jacket and hesitantly put it on. "Thanks," he said awkwardly. Trying to hide from the werewolf's piercing gaze. 

It was huge. The leather practically engulfing his lithe, skinny frame. It even smelled like him: woodsy, like fresh pine trees. So utterly and distinctly Derek. He watched as green eyes shamelessly looked him up and down, and he could practically hear all of Derek's dirty thoughts.

"Sourwolf, my eyes are up here," he pointed to his face and smirked at the others' irritated gaze. They spent a few more seconds staring at each other in silence, before Stiles cleared his throat.

"Sarcastic jokes aside, thank you. Really." He said earnestly, offering a small smile. Derek nodded and came towards him, jerking his head at the sidewalk. Stiles got the message quickly. Moving beside the taller man as they both walked with a steady pace.

Tomorrow, Stiles would be stuck in a car with him for 8 hours. Staying together for a week at most.

There was no way he was getting any sleep tonight.

***  
The next day came far too quickly. He was still half asleep by the time he got dressed, waiting for Derek by the street.

"Goodbye baby," Stiles fondly touched Roscoe's hood. "Hopefully I'll see you soon, with the rest of my body intact." He turned around, hearing an engine rumble and watched as Derek's sleek black car pulled over, the werewolf looking far too good in his green henley and another leather jacket. His dark hair was windswept; obnoxious black sunglasses sat on the bridge of his nose. Stiles didn't know whether to fuck him or punch him.

"When you're done talking to your crappy car, get inside."

Punch him. Definitely punch him.

He stuck his tongue out as he got in. "I'm giving you one last chance. Are you sure you wanna do this?"

Derek took a deep breath. Stiles was certain he was having doubts, but then he turned to face him fully.

"Shut up, Stiles."

"Ok."

From all of their meetings and group encounters, anyone would've decided Derek was cautious, wary and steady.

That did _not_ go for his driving style.

He revved the engine and it jerked forward with a brutal force, causing Stiles to smack his head against the window. Whilst groaning, the werewolf sped the car full throttle. And from the shocked expressions on the faces of pedestrians, he was sure they had broken numerous driving laws.

"Fuck," he gingerly touched his head. "What the hell?"

"You should've buckled up."

"You should've waited for me!"

Derek kept his face placid, eyes fixated on the road. Stiles resisted the urge to roll his eyes and fiddled with a nickel. A silence befell them, making him feel all jittery.

It was only 5 minutes in, and he already began to hate the trip.

He never liked silence. His mouth always seemed to have a mind of it's own. So he let his eyes wander, watching as they left Beacon hills with each passing building. Never in his life did he think this would be possible. Sitting in a car with Derek Hale, the single most patronizing yet gorgeous man he'd ever met. Stiles still couldn't believe he agreed to go with him, even more surprised when Derek _offered_ to go with him.

There it was again, that nagging question that has plagued his every thought. Derek had said he needed to get away, but what was the real reason? Why the hell would his, essentially, mortal enemy decide to spend an entire week with him? And Stiles knew he would most definitely regret asking, but he couldn't fucking take it anymore.

"Why did you really go with me?" He made sure he was looking at the others' face. "Wanting to 'get way' when you've had so much time to do so?"

Derek's expression was so indifferent he seemed almost robotic. Eyes still facing the route ahead. "Why do you seem to care?"

That shut him up. Why _did_ he care so much? He huffed, crossing his arms and turning to face the other way.

After a beat, Derek spared him a glance. "Drink your coffee."

"There is no fucking - oh," true to his word, Stiles saw two cups in the cupholder. Mystified, he grabbed the one marked with 'S' and took a reluctant sip. He made an approving sound and raised his brows.

"How do you know how I like my coffee?"

Derek answered easily. "I've gotten coffee with you before." 

And - fuck, they did, didn't they? It felt like eons ago. When Scott had been on some kinda stakeout, the two of them were sitting in Stiles' jeep for backup. After an endless amount of bickering, snide comments and an honest - to - god insult competition, they decided to treat themselves with a hot drink. To think that Derek, of all people, remembered his exact order after all this time...it made Stiles feel all fuzzy inside. He hated it.

Derek's eyes met his in the rearview mirror, and Stiles nodded in gratitude and Derek nodded back; they resumed the companionable silence.

Even with the extra caffeine Stiles was still extremely tired. He thumbed out his phone and checked the time: it had been an 1 hour. At this rate they would reach Redding in no time, then he stared ahead and noticed the obscenely long line of cars that stretched on and on. Maybe not.

Groaning, Stiles decided to take advantage of the traffic and relax, pulling his pillow out of his duffel bag. He easily found the button on the bottom of his seat and reclined back, bemused when he noticed Derek's hands tighten on the steering wheel.

"How long 'til Redding?"

The werewolf studied the cars in front of them. "Looks like another 3 hours, hopefully traffic will lighten up."

Stiles quietly sighed. Ok. Just 3 more hours, he could do that.

Reluctantly, he evened out his breathing and closed his lids. Knowing what inevitable vision would come next.

***

There was water everywhere, he flailed his arms wildly. It was gushing with incredible speed. A hand reached out to him, calling out his name, but he couldn't stay afloat any longer -

Gasping, Stiles shot up rapidly, trying to catch his breath. He could vaguely feel his shirt sticking to his now sweaty skin, and his tongue felt heavy in his mouth.

Derek pulled the car over and turned to face him fully, eyes wide with concern. "You ok?" 

Stiles snorted in deprecation. He was anything but ok, but he was used to it. Most of the time his nightmares would change, become more sinister every year. Now he was reliving the exact same visions again and again. It was a river, a vast expanse of water that no matter how hard he tried, always managed to drown him. It was so vivid; probably one of the worst, most lifelike of all his night terrors.

"Just the usual nightmare. Where are we?"

Derek still looked unconvinced, but answered nonetheless. "Redding, but it's late. We should be in Oregon by tomorrow." The werewolf shot him another mysterious look before getting out of the car, not even bothering to wait for Stiles as he walked towards some motel beside them. Dickhead.

He scrambled in his seat, trying to quickly grab his stuff and almost tripping over his legs as he opened the car door.

Once he'd gotten out, he quickly studied the area around him. Redding was always beautiful, cute little houses perching around a lovely library. The motel it's self looked promising, albeit a little old.

"Asshole!" He shouted as he ran up to Derek. The taller man reached the entrance doors and opened them, waiting to usher Stiles through. How could he leave him one minute, then act all courteous the next? He scoffed in disbelief, wanting to slap that smirk off Derek's lips.

"Can I help you boys?" An elderly woman asked, eyebrows raised as she watched the whole interaction. "Plenty of rooms spare."

Derek leaned against the counter. "We'll take one, two beds please." The lady's brows went up even higher, as if she assumed they were gay lovers or something. But she nodded, giving them a key with the door number.

As the two of them walked down the hallways Stiles took the time to look around the place.

It was a lot nicer on the inside than out. Grey flooring paved the grounds, and each door was of brown wood, with golden handles. He pleasantly surprised at the quality of the place, proud of Redding for scrapping their usually rundown little motels.

Their room was at the end of the corridor, and Derek did that stupid gentlemanly thing letting Stiles walk through the door first.

It was decently sized, the walls were a pristine white and covered with paintings and pictures of California. Two double beds sat parallel each other. A large desk drawer was underneath a mounted TV, and next to it was door, which probably led to a bathroom.

"Oh my god," Stiles collapsed on one of the beds. He was tired, stiff and sweaty. All he wanted was a nice hot shower, some warm milk and to be in his pyjamas.

Derek, who obviously didn't care how lethargic - looking Stiles, sat on his bed quietly. His tone incredibly serious.

"Remember why we're here, to check on supernatural threats. We don't have time for vacation stops or sight - seeing."

Stiles let out a very long, frustrated sigh. "Why do you automatically assume that's why I'm here? I'm not entirely superficial you know, spare me the lectures."

The werewolf glared at him, then proceeded to methodically remove his socks and shoes, neatly placing them in the corner of his bed. He pulled off his jacket and folded it, placing it on top of the desk drawer. Every action was precise and efficient. So at odds with his fiery, easily - agitated personality.

He teared his gaze away from Derek and peeled off his sweaty shirt, getting ready for a shower. He let out a triumphant sound once he found his towel, and threw it over his shoulder.

The first thing he saw when he stepped inside the bathroom was a large mirror, reflecting every fatigued feature on his face. His skin was clammy and pale, his hair sticking to his forehead. Stiles put his shower gel on one of the shelfs and took off his jeans. Hanging them on the door hook, he hopped in the shower.

Sighing in contempt, he blissfully tipped his head back and let the hot water soak his body, his muscles went slack with relaxation. He usually sang whilst showering, and almost burst into 'Fergalicious' when he remembered Derek was a thin wall away. 

He made quick work of scrubbing himself clean: arms, legs, hair. Stiles switched off the shower head and stepped out, wrapping a towel around his waist. Opening quickly, he shut the door and turned to walk towards his bed, yelping when he saw the mountain of muscle in front of him.

Derek stared down at Stiles' body flatly. "Finally," and he shouldered past him. Not roughly, but Stiles still narrowed his eyes at the action.

"What a fucking dick," he muttered. Even after knowing him for so long Stiles still couldn't get a read on the guy. Derek was like a seesaw: if you added the right amount of pressure, he was either up or down. Never in the middle. Never balanced.

He snorted. Here he was, comparing one of the most intimidating people he'd ever met to a playground toy.

As he finished getting dressed, the werewolf came out of the bathroom; Stiles shouldn't have been gawking at his body. Hell, it wasn't even the first time he saw Derek shirtless, usually under very bloody and life - threatening circumstances. But when he was wet and steamy, water dripping down his abs and his towel hanging low on his hips, could you really blame him for staring?

Stiles caught himself ogling and quickly dropped his gaze. He turned to give Derek some privacy as he got changed, but the silence was so incredibly thick he felt like he was choking. "I...uh," Stiles clumsily started. "Do you - do you know anything about these 'supernatural threats'?"

"Nothing." Derek stated. "You?"

"Apart from the fact that they're supernatural? Nope."

They sat in silence. Stiles stood up and walked towards the window, silently marvelling at the night sky. He could practically feel those pale - green eyes staring at him, trying not to squirm under their gaze, he ignored it and smiled at the bright stars. All of them twinkling so beautifully.

His mother loved star - gazing. She adored nothing more than to cuddle with him in a warm blanket, the two of them just...looking at the sky.

With a small and sad smile, he turned and walked back to his bed, laying down on his back. Stiles moved his head to look at Derek but faltered when he saw the man blatantly staring at him.

"What? Do I have soap in my hair or something?" He lifted a hand to run his fingers through his brown strands.

"Where are we going to stay in Oregon? You said you know some people?"

"Um," Stiles couldn't shake the feeling that this wasn't what Derek had meant to say, nor what he was thinking, but he answered anyway. "A relative's place." He spoke quickly, not wanting to draw any attention to his secret grandmother and hoping to end the conversation.

Derek stared at him for a few more seconds before turning the giant TV on. He flicked through the channels and stopped, deciding on some historical documentary.

Weirdo.

***

Stiles woke up hot and sweaty, shivering as the cool air hit him. Gasping for breath, he stared at the clock. It's screen reading 5am.

He turned to his side in the hopes of getting some more sleep, heart stopping when he saw a dark figure hovering over his bed, head leaning down to look at Stiles. He made his breathing more shallow, body tensing as he prepared for an attack. Trembling slightly, he made a grab for his flashlight, making an 'aha!' sound as he shone the light on the man's face.

"You were having nightmares again." Derek squinted at the light and grabbed Stiles' hand, putting the torch down. He was fully dressed, hair a little damp from a shower. He had his usually indifferent expression on, face showing absolutely no signs of fatigue or tiredness. No signs of waking up at some ungodly hour in the middle of the night.

Stiles shoved his head under his pillow, voice muffled. "Why the actual fuck are you awake so early?"

"You were screaming."

Slowly, he removed his head from under the pillow. Now that he could see him clearly, Stiles was a little thrown off by Derek's soft tone, and by the worried look in his pale - green eyes. The obvious concern on the werewolf's face was surprising, so surprising his next words wavered a bit.

"Yeah - it, it wasn't great," trying to go for funny, he waited for Derek to laugh. Realising that's all he wanted to see.

Derek wasn't amused.

"Now that you're awake, get dressed," the werewolf gestured both hands up and pointed to his clothes, as if he were his father telling him to go school. "We want to find these supernaturals as soon as possible."

"You should've said something cooler, like 'targets need to be neutralized', or 'paranormal activists will be dispatched.' Wanting to find supernaturals sounds boring."

Derek's mouth tightened, rolling his eyes afterwards. "Sounds more exciting than being stuck in a car with you."

"Eh," Stiles smirked. "Can't argue with that." 

In a matter of minutes the two were back in Derek's camaro, and Stiles studied the interior in spite of all the times he's been in it.

The car was incredibly clean, black leather seats giving the werewolf that sexy, emo vibe he had going on ( Stiles would never admit it was sexy, ever ) the floor had some splattered mud and leaves. In front of them was the radio, buttons worn down from the constant pressing over the years. Realising they hadn't used it at all, he turned it on and smiled at Derek's exasperated sigh.

With absolute glee and no remorse, Stiles sang ABBA's 'Mamma Mia', then 'Dancing Queen' after that. 

"Do you really have to sing?"

"Come on sourwolf, you know you want to."

In quiet amazement, he watched as Derek contemplated singing, before bopping his head to the music. Slowly but surely, the taller man began to mouth the lyrics, and Stiles didn't know what was funnier: the fact that he was able to make Derek sing, or the fact that Derek knew all of ABBA's songs off by heart.

Suddenly there were hands at the radio, turning the music off. Before he could whine in disappointment, a meaty finger was thrust into his face.

"You will not tell _anyone_ about the singing, do you understand?" Stiles had to bite back a grin at the werewolf's serious expression. "Absolutely no one." 

He nodded in understanding, hiding away this information for future blackmail purposes.

"Got it. So...," he allowed himself to snort. "When did you learn all the lyrics?"

Derek's face darkened, his tone was like someone was choking him. "I don't want to talk about it."

Stiles snorted even louder. He saw the others' lip quirk up, so small it seemed like it wasn't even there. Derek didn't usually laugh or grin, but to him this was a full - on smile. Something about Stiles being one of the few to see it made his heart swell, an emotion he didn't want to name.

The silence that befell them was more than ok, maybe even bordering comfortable. Yesterday he was so terribly nervous about being in a car with the werewolf. Rambling so much his lips almost fell off. Now, it felt so natural, so easy to just...stay with each other.

After an hour and a half, Derek stopped at some gas station. Not even bothering to ask if Stiles wanted anything, not even stopping when Stiles was about to tell him anyway, Derek got out of his seat and left.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me." He watched the werewolf walk away in complete disbelief, trying to distract himself by staring at Derek's ass.

Hot damn.

Stiles stared out the window for so long he didn't even notice the werewolf coming towards the car, and jolted back to reality when the door opened.

In Derek's hands were a packet of poptarts and some gum. He then felt something cold pressed into his palm.

"Well?" The werewolf gruffed out, and did Stiles imagine it or did he look a little embarrassed? "Take it."

He looked down to find his absolute favourite soda in his hands, chilled water running down it's sides.

"I...thanks." Stiles was a little shocked, to say the least. He liked many different sodas, sure, but only Scott, Allison and Lydia had known what his favourite drink was. No one else. And maybe it didn't seem like such a big deal, but he was horribly sentimental. It was a little pathetic to be honest, to be attached to a certain food like that. 

The werewolf turned as if to hide his face, but Stiles saw him in the rearview mirror. Derek's lips spilt into another smile, a little bigger than the last time, that looked so incredibly shy and sweet. So at odds with his stony, usually lifeless expressions.

First the coffee, then the soda, and now that smile? That stupidly cute smile that had Stiles' heart skipping beats?

Derek Hale was going to be the death of him.

And he wasn't even mad about it.

***

They stopped in the middle of a vacant road. Sputtering sounds coming from the engine.

Stiles gave Derek a confused look, and the werewolf shrugged his shoulders in response.

"It's never made those sounds before." 

Stiles tapped his knee impatiently. "Well maybe you should check it out. That always helps."

Scowling, Derek opened the car door and got out, slamming it shut. He snorted at how easy it was to rile him up.

Stiles opened his own door and brought his bag, rummaging through until he found it.

"Duct tape." The werewolf almost looked amused. "You brought duct tape."

"This stuff is amazing. Managed to hold Roscoe together, so I'm guessing it'll do the same for you."

"You are _not_ putting that in my car."

Stiles put his hands on his hips. "Well I'm not staying here in this freaky street any longer, let me help."

Derek glowered. "I don't need any."

Huffing out a laugh, Stiles gave him a 'really?' look, before shrugging of his flannel and rolling up his sleeves. He pretended he didn't see how Derek seemed to follow every action, mainly because he didn't know how to feel about it. Was Derek attracted to him? Was he impressed? Did Stiles have something on his face?

"Huh," he popped the hood up. "Looks like your regulator is a little rusty, but that doesn't seem to be the problem."

"Then what _is_ the problem?"

Stiles grit his teeth. "I'm getting to that, asshole -"

He was cut off by Derek's hand on his mouth, watching as the werewolf put a finger to his own lips in a 'shh' gesture. To Stiles it was dead silent, but Derek sniffed the air hesitantly, turning to mouth the word 'blood.'

Stiles kept his body incredibly stiff, and after a few moments of silence muttered, "do you still smell it?"

"No." Derek said quietly. "Not anymore."

Taking a sceptical look around, Stiles resumed his work on the engine, but he couldn't shake the feeling of pure terror. Something felt...wrong. As if he were being watched.

 _Get a fucking grip._ He berated himself. _It's those thoughts that get you killed._

The quiet of the street was almost unnerving. He was so used to the sound of cars zooming past, or the whistle of the wind filling his ears. But there was nothing here. Absolutely no sound whatsoever. And whilst the werewolf seemed to revel in the silence, Stiles found himself checking his surroundings every 2 seconds.

"We still in Redding?"

He stared up to look at Derek, mouth practically watering when he found the werewolf without his jacket, red henley hugging his toned torso. "How long till' Oregon?"

"About an hour." Derek bent down to look at the engine. His brows furrowed as Stiles tweaked some pipes, as if trying to solve a math problem. "If traffic is heavy, maybe an extra 30 minutes." He spoke with conviction. All business in his tone, but it seemed his attention was somewhere else. The werewolf sniffed the air for a second time, and he turned to the right, shaking his head and dismissing the smell.

Stiles watched the entire scene with intrigue. He's never really _wanted_ to be a werewolf, saying no to the bite numerous times, but that didn't mean he wasn't impressed. Having superhuman speed, strength and agility. Being able to heal at an accelerated rate, with heightened hearing and smell. It was beyond cool.

But he knew he had a responsibility for his friends, to the pack. He's the voice of reason. The one with a plan. He needed to be the one they could rely on in any situation, not to be swayed by a full moon or anything else werewolves go through.

Wiping the sweat of his forehead, Stiles took a step back to study his progress. He frowned slightly at the charge pipe, and pointed a finger to the small cylinder - shaped blob. "That's your problem. You'll need a new motor mount."

Derek looked even more confused, if possible, looking at the car then back to Stiles. "Are you sure?"

He put a hand on his chest in mock sadness, scoffing in shock. "What? You don't trust me?" He sighed, ignoring the way Derek stiffened. "Oh sourwolf, this is disappointing."

"Stiles."

"I mean, I know I'm being dramatic, but really? I'm surprised you don't know shit about cars -"

"Stiles."

"Considering how much of a know - it - all you are. You could always use the duct tape if you want, mounts can be pretty expensive -"

"Stiles!" He flinched as Derek cut him off. "Don't move. Stiles please, don't move a muscle."

He let his body tense up. "What is it?" He whispered as quietly as possible. "What's behind me?"

Derek wasn't looking at him, he took small steps, walking towards Stiles whilst keeping his gaze locked on whatever thing was behind them. He felt his heart beating rapidly, and he was pretty sure the number of bpm was bordering medically impossible. It didn't take long for the werewolf to reach him, and Stiles breath hitched when he felt a hand on his waist, pulling him closer and closer.

Then Derek walked forward, putting Stiles behind him. "That is."

It looked like some kind of winged - animal, shrouded in a cloud of darkness. It was staggeringly tall, practically 7 feet. A snub nose huffed air out harshly. Then it unfurled it's wings, their length making the creature look even more menacing, and opened it's mouth to bare long white fangs.

"Run!" Derek turned to face him, his eyes shining blue. "Do it now!"

"Nope. Not happening." Stiles ran towards the car and all but ripped the door open. After a few seconds of scrambling, he pulled out his baseball bat and sprinted to Derek. They stood together, backs pressing against each other as the bat - like creature flew over their heads, a frenzy of wings, claws and teeth hitting them both at once.

"What the hell does this thing want?" Stiles smacked his baseball bat with enough force for the monster to stumble.

Derek panted out heavily. "My guess? Us."

They took deep breathes as the creature regained balance. Stiles hefted his bat from the floor, lifting it up and preparing to strike. "I know I would taste horrible."

"Certainly don't look like it." Derek muttered so quietly Stiles was sure he imagined it. Was it meant to be sarcastic? A joke? Did the werewolf often wonder what he tasted like? But just before he could even think about what _that_ meant, the bat creature lurched at them again, it's eyes glowing a horrible crimson.

For it's large size it was remarkably fast. It dashed out claws and fangs with brutal strength, and Stiles tried to ignore the painful aches all over his body. Just as he was about to hit the animal, it whipped out a large leg, kicking back hard enough to send him flying into a tree.

He groaned out in pain, and could vaguely hear someone shouting his name. As he desperately tried to keep his eyes open, he noticed that the creature was seconds away from tearing Derek apart, and something...happened.

He didn't know when, and he didn't know how, but he managed to get up. The horrible fear of something hurting Derek was so overwhelming that he stumbled a bit. Soon he found himself on the other side of the road, stalking the creature as it's back was turned. And Derek, stupidly brave Derek was still holding his ground. Stiles found his bat scattered across the floor and picked it up, hitting the creature with the last of his strength.

As it fell to the ground, Derek pounced on it, promptly ripping it to shreds with his blood - stained claws.

He could feel his eyes getting heavy, leaning on his baseball bat for balance.

"Stiles, Stiles look at me." Derek cupped his cheek, voice soft but firm. "Keep them open. Stiles, please."

He felt himself droop, only to be caught by the werewolf's strong arms. His ribs felt as though they were repeatedly bashed with a hammer. "It hurts, everything hurts." He said weakly, a throbbing pain coming from his abdomen, it was too much to bear. "I can't..."

"Stay awake," Derek commanded. The werewolf holding him close. "Keep them open. Stiles!"

Then he felt himself drift off, collapsing against Derek's hold.

And everything went dark.

***

Stiles woke up, again, hot and sweaty. He noticed how laboured his breathing was, and when he sat up he gasped in pain, looking down to see his waist was bandaged.

Derek turned and gave him look that was somewhere between unimpressed and unbothered. "Oh good, you're awake."

Gone was the man that spoke to Stiles softly, gently cupping his face. Gone was the man who told Stiles to run, to protect himself, willing to die for him.

Because sitting in the car seat next to him was the Derek he'd grown accustomed to: the stony, callous - faced Derek that never, ever showed emotion. He wasn't evil by any means. He wasn't a cold - blooded killer like his uncle, Peter. He was just so...blank. That was the only way Stiles could describe it.

In all of the fucking years he'd known him, the werewolf hadn't changed. The first time they'd met Stiles was so horribly intimidated he was pretty sure he pissed himself. And maybe Stiles believed that once they had gotten to know each other, Derek wouldn't be as stoic as he seemed. Maybe he would be kind, charismatic. Hell, maybe he'd even be _funny_.

But Stiles was quickly proven wrong.

Scowling at Derek's lack of emotion, he turned to look out the window. "I'm fine, thanks for asking. Just got impaled with a claw the size of a banana, blacked out, and may or may not have a concussion." He listed each one with his fingers, gleefully wondering how vexed Derek would be. "Your level of concern is astounding."

Stiles was prepared to see the werewolf's hands tighten on the wheel, his face redden with anger, see a vein throbbing.

He wasn't prepared to see Derek look seemingly _guilty_.

Derek's eyes momentarily cast downward, his lips frowning at the corners. Dark, bushy eyebrows furrowed, and Stiles felt something tighten in his chest at the sight. He hadn't meant to guilt - trip Derek, but he couldn't deny the fact that knowing the werewolf truly cared about him felt good. Really good.

But Derek didn't say a word.

Sighing, Stiles turned to look out the window once again. He noticed the difference in buildings, the lush expanse of trees.

Oregon.

In a couple of hours he would see the grandma he never knew. And at first he was terrified. What would she be like? Would they have anything in common? Why didn't he see her at his mother's funeral?

But now, with the beautiful scenery and blazing sun, he felt calm. But part of him knew his tranquility had nothing to do with the scenery and everything to do with Derek.

It was strange, being attracted to someone who's soul intention was to antagonize anyone near him. Stiles knew it was probably just a physical attraction. But after those small little gestures, like remembering his favourite drink, or how he liked his coffee. Or the way Derek cupped his face ever so gently, the soft caress of his fingers. The way his pale - green eyes would follow his every move, the adorably mystified expression on his face when Stiles fixed his engine.

And suddenly Stiles was questioning _everything._

Now he wasn't so sure it was just physical attraction. Because physical attraction didn't last for 3 years, because physical attraction wasn't supposed to have all these _feelings_. The want, the need -

The love.

He resisted the urge to smack his head against the window, or face palm, or saw his hand off. Of fucking _course_ it was love. Because lord knows Stiles Stilinski doesn't half - ass anything. He immediately jumps in the deep end. He goes in full throttle, and only now was Stiles worried about the repercussions and consequences.

He was so deep in his thoughts it felt like his nightmare. Drowning in a seemingly endless expanse of water, and no matter how hard he swam, or how deep his breaths were, the water swallowed him. Huge, terrifyingly huge waves that captured him. And he never saw whose hand it was trying to save him, already engulfed in water and waiting to die.

So Stiles obviously didn't hear Derek calling his name again and again, and didn't see the confused look on the other's face as Stiles continued to stare out the window.

"Stiles, Stiles?" Derek elbowed him. "Stiles?"

"What?" He snapped, spitting out the word with more venom than he'd thought.

It seemed as though Derek was thinking the same thing, because his eyebrows raised just the slightest. "I think we're here."

Stiles was surprised. He sent Derek the address believing it would take more than enough time for him to prepare himself.

And now they were actually here, and Stiles felt like pissing himself in terror.

"Oh, ok." He said in a much quieter tone, opening the car door to get out, but groaning when he finally stretched his legs. After some time trying to get his limbs working again, Stiles caught the vast field of greenery in front of him.

"It's gorgeous," he said faintly, breath catching when he saw Derek standing there, the sun casting a golden glow that covered the werewolf. His jaw, the bridge of his nose, every handsome feature on Derek's face was highlighted. And when he turned to face Stiles, there was this small look of wonder on his face. His stunning green eyes catching a yellow glint, and Stiles was sure he had never seen anything so beautiful.

"We should probably get going." Stiles spoke softly, not taking his eyes off Derek for a second.

The werewolf slowly nodded, staring at Stiles for a few more seconds before tearing his gaze away.

As they both grabbed their bags, Stiles mouth hung open when he saw the home in front of them. Maybe home wasn't the correct term, no, it was more like 'castle'.

Towering over Derek and he was a mansion - like building, made of polished wood. The entire building had an almost holistic, '100% recyclable' aura, but still managed to look quite modern. At the end of the horrifically massive driveway were two garages, and Stiles saw that almost every room had a balcony that over looked the lovely views.

"Fuck. She's loaded."

"She?" The werewolf asked.

Stiles already started to walk towards the door, throwing his head over his shoulder to quickly say, "my grandmother", before walking even faster. Unfortunately, with Derek's crazy werewolf strength and speed he managed to easily catch up to him, and just before Derek could ask anything else Stiles rang the door bell.

It burst opened so quickly that he jumped back, even more startled when he saw a small girl walk up to them, her brown eyes wide with excitement.

"Nana! Stiles is here, and he brought a boyfriend!"

_Boyfriend?_

"Uh.." 

Just then an elderly lady came rushing down the stairs, and Stiles was surprised at her vigor.

"Oh!" She clapped her hands like some circus seal. "Oh, do come in both of you!"

Stiles stood there for what felt like ages. Derek himself looked more than confused, horrified, actually. The werewolf decided to study the floor instead, suddenly very interested in his shoes. Stiles blinked a few times, letting out a cracked and hiccupped "thanks" as he and Derek walked inside. But he still felt as though his brain had short - circuited. 

The girl walked up to Derek slowly, before looking at Stiles and whispering, "your boyfriend is very handsome."

The werewolf stared down at her with wide eyes, quickly flicking a look towards the elderly woman. "I - I'm not -"

"Handsome!" Stiles interrupted, already mortified at what he was saying, and he scooted closer to put a hand on the werewolf's chest. "I'm the pretty one out of the two of us."

Derek stilled, going completely stiff when Stiles touched him. "We -"

"Love each other, regardless of me being more attractive." He interjected. He should stop, Stiles _knew_ he should be stopping, shutting up, but he couldn't. The entire fiasco was so incredibly awful he wanted to throw up. Or saw his other hand off.

The little girl giggled. Derek looked as though he was seconds away from a heart attack, and Stiles pretty much felt the same.

Because what had he gotten himself into?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hellooo, welcome to my first ever work in this fandom.
> 
> Thank you millions for checking it out, and please note i have no idea when I'll post next. With school starting soon and my crap ton of homework, it's not gonna have a definite deadline.
> 
> I love feedback, and comments and kudos are always greatly appreciated!!


	2. Our touch is just a touch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: it gets quite angsty in this chapter. Ive always wanted to play with Stiles' character and portray some blunt humanity, showing that he isnt just a guy for laughs.  
> As always, thank you for clicking on this story:]]

After the initial shock, regret and horror, Stiles and Derek were cheerfully directed by the little girl to their room. 

"Here you go," she pointed a small finger to the door, jumping up and down as she opened it. "Nana says you can stay here as long as you like."

It was huge. Rich, dark polished wood paved the grounds underneath an expensive - looking carpet. A stone fireplace sat underneath a large, ancient mirror. At the end of the room were some fancy French doors that lead out to the balcony, with a leather armchair and oak desk just beside it. In one of the corners stood a beautiful island pine plant, and smack in the middle of the room was an enormous, incredibly comfortable - looking bed.

 _One_ bed.

Stiles felt panic swamp him once again, his mind screaming _shit shit shit shit._

Derek didn't seem to notice his little anxiety fit, thanking the little girl as she bounded down the stairs, her frilly pink dress swooshing at the movement.

"Oh god," Stiles covered his face with his hands. "Derek, I'm so sorry. I didn't know what I was thinking -"

"It's alright."

"I'm such an idiot," he continued. "Putting you in that position - wait, _what?_ " 

Derek looked uncomfortable, shifting his weight and swallowing. "Stiles, it's - it's fine."

All his nerves seeped away, now replaced with concern. "Man, are you ok?"

Derek smiled. But that was describing it loosely, it was more like a show of teeth. It was manic, cold and incredibly unnerving. "Fine." Derek spoke quickly as he took off his jacket. "I'm fine."

Stiles wanted to laugh. Why was the sentence 'I'm fine' the least convincing thing you could possibly say? He didn't know whether Derek was angry, tired or frustrated. But judging from the way the werewolf was aggressively folding his leather jacket, it was probably all three.

"I just...I panicked. It was stupid, and I'm sorry."

Stiles watched as Derek took a couple of deep breaths, putting both his hands on the wooden desk. He scrunched his eyes shut, his chest steadily rising and falling, whilst muttering something under his breath.

"You're right Stiles," Derek lifted his hands up; turning to face him. "It _was_ stupid. Though I'm really not surprised." The werewolf began walking towards him, and Stiles started to move back a few steps. "Do you have any idea, what a hindrance this might be? Looking for supernatural threats _and_ playing pretend boyfriends?"

With every word, Derek seemed to be getting angrier and angrier, with Derek's eyes glowing impossibly bright. Soon Stiles was backed up against the wall, Derek's voice dripping with malice. "You've practically jeopardised the entire mission!"

Stiles was horribly confused. Only seconds ago did Derek look shy and tense, now he was all but shouting, his face taut with rage. Stiles trembled slightly, hands shaking at his sides as he tried to calm his rapid heart beat. Derek lifted a palm to place on the wall; making Stiles flinch harshly. The hand stopped in mid-air. Slowly, Stiles brought his gaze back to the werewolf, who looked as though he'd seen a ghost, arm dropping like it had caught on fire.

Green eyes widened in realisation, and Stiles could see all the guilt beginning to swallow him. Derek took a few steps back and opened his mouth to speak. No words came out, he looked like a fish out of water, gaping his lips open and shut.

The air around them crackled with an awkward intensity. Tension so palpable and thick you could cut it with a knife. Derek made his eyes wander to the floor, the ceiling, the mirror. Anywhere but Stiles.

The werewolf spoke quietly. His small voice a stark contrast to his large frame. "That was uncalled for. Stiles, I -"

But he didn't want to hear it. Stiles turned on his heel and opened the door, slamming it shut. 

He leaned against the wall and slid down almost theatrically, bringing his hands to cover his face. He pulled his hair roughly to balance the anger he felt. What the fuck _was_ that? It just...it wasn't right. Acting so fucking timid, then having a screaming match with someone who was too confused and worried to actually scream.

Sighing, he lifted himself up and began to walk down the ridiculously large stairs.

Part of the trip was to learn about his grandmother. To learn what happened to her, and why he didn't even know she existed.

Well, what better time to learn then now?

***

"Dear, could you pass the sugar?"

Stiles was sat on a blanket in the garden, on either side of him was the little girl and his newly - found relative. When Stiles had finally found them outside they urged him to join them. And so here he was, enjoying the little picnic and gorgeous view.

"So..." Stiles gave her the cup of sugar cubes. "What's your name?"

The old woman smiled, and Stiles' heart ached at how she looked just like his mother. She had the same dark hair and warm eyes. The same poise and posture, the same refined mannerisms. Despite her now withered and wrinkled face, he could tell she was once a beautiful woman. Someone full of life.

She whisked her tea with a spoon and sipped it slowly. "Bellona, and this little monster," she paused to tickle the small girl. "Is Julia."

Stiles frowned slightly. "I thought you were Polish, isn't Bellona Italian?"

"What do you know about mythology?"

The question caught him off guard. And Stiles wasn't expecting some sort of history lesson, nor did he want one, so he answered quickly. "Depends on what kind."

Bellona refilled her china cup, holding it with a strange elegance. "Roman, my dear. Roman mythology. What do you know about their gods?"

"Well, I know that their ruler is Jupiter, lord of the skies. His brother's are Neptune and Pluto, and his wife is Juno, the Roman equivalent of Hera."

"Good," the old woman nodded with approval, but her face was suddenly stern, like that of a teacher's. "Who is Minerva?"

"Goddess of strategy and wisdom, Greek counterpart Athena."

"And which is Vulcan?"

The constant swarm of questions was alarming. Bellona just kept shooting them off one by one, waiting for Stiles to answer. Julia couldn't keep up, falling asleep from boredom. But Stiles was determined to answer every single one.

Time slipped away as usual. And by the time Bellona got to the last question, the Oregon sky was dark, filled with glittering stars.

"Now," she looked directly at him. Her eyes catching the glint of the moon, making them look grey. "Who, is Enyo?"

Stiles answered distractedly. Picking at the dirt under his nails as he spoke. "Greek goddess of war, Roman counterpart, Bellona."

A slow smile made it's way across his face. "You sly bitch." He muttered before thinking.

The old woman laughed gracefully. She scooted next to Stiles and wrapped an arm around him, and he leant into her hold. It felt like he'd known her his entire life. Everything about her was so incredibly familiar, and Stiles felt safe. Maybe he shouldn't have felt this way. Considering how little time he's known her. But all the stress, the anger he felt after that row with Derek, all of that seeped away when Bellona held him, her face resting on Stiles' head as she spoke.

"That I am, my dear Mieczyslaw. That I am."

***

Stiles stayed behind after that. He bid Bellona and a sleepy Julia goodnight, laying down on his back to stare at the stars as they both left. 

He felt his eyes prickle with tears, remembering his mother would name all the planets and comets, and began harshly blinking them away at the memories. He then lifted himself up and brought in his knees to his chest, lowering his face to rest on his arms, and drew in a deep, shaky breath. Everything was just...overwhelming. Very, overwhelming. 

Stiles had been told numerous times he was far too empathetic. Now, living in this supernatural reality, it seemed his empathy was magnified by a 1000; in some strange and crazy way, it was almost as if he had begun to empathise with _himself_. God. He was such a mess.

In hindsight, he should've known there would be some sort of, _disturbance,_ when they arrived here. It was practically ineveitable that he and Derek would have some sort of argument, but what happened back there was something else entirely. Almost as if that wasn't Derek at all.

Raising his head, Stiles let his legs go down to rest, all but howling in pain when he remembered his wound. "Shit," he hissed, gently placing a hand on his bandaged abdomen.

"Well, that should enough over-thinking for tonight, Stiles. Get your sorry ass to bed." Muttering as he slowly got up, Stiles walked up the marble slabs and towards the kitchen's back entrance, wincing every now and then as his body got used to standing up.

It was well past midnight. He gave the beautiful dark sky one more gaze before opening the glass doors, letting himself be engulfed in the house's warmth. The kitchen, like the rest of the house, was ostentatious in size. In the blackness of the room, Stiles could vaguely make out some sort of island and dining set; with numerous cupboards and draws. Feeling quite parched, he then walked over to the kitchen counter to get a glass of water, before realising he, well, couldn't actually see anything.

Sighing, Stiles fumbled around the kitchen blindly for a light switch. After a couple more seconds he managed to find a bump on the wall.

"Thank god," he said with relief. Stiles quickly flipped the switch, eyes squinting at the sudden burst of light that showered the room. He span around back towards the counter, and almost tripped over his own feet when he saw a tall figure in the doorway.

Derek was leaning on the doorframe, arms crossed around his beefy chest as his green eyes stared at Stiles intently. Gulping slightly, Stiles turned his head away. "You've got to stop fucking scaring me, I swear, I've had like 3 heart attacks this week." He spoke quickly, wanting to prevent the almost automatic awkwardness afterwards.

As Stiles preoccupied himself with finding a glass in one of the cupboards, he took the silence as a sign that Derek had left, and he felt his shoulders relax at the werewolf's absence.

Suddenly, there were hands on his shoulders, gently turning him around. He saw Derek standing opposite, his eyes widening as he noticed just how close they were. Derek lifted a hand towards Stiles' face, as if to cup his cheek, but the werewolf stilled and lowered his arm, realising what he was going to do.

Stiles felt his heart ache at the hesitance, forgetting his previous anger. He opened his mouth to speak first, but nothing came out. He didn't know what to say. Or how.

"I...look," Derek started. "Stiles, I'm sorry, I-I don't know what came over me." Derek took a pause, green eyes shining with uncertainty and worry, "please-"

 _Fuck it_. Stiles thought, bringing himself forward and enveloping Derek up in a brief hug. They stood like that for a few uncomfortable seconds, and just as Stiles was about to let go, he felt strong strong hands on his waist and pull him back in, with Derek then hiding his face in the crook of Stiles' neck.

How long were they standing here for, minutes, hours? Stiles didn't know, but he soon felt Derek move back, and he had to physically clamp his mouth shut to stop the whine of protest from coming out; missing the warmth the werewolf gave him.

Derek still had his hands placed on Stiles' waist, and Stiles had his arms wrapped around Derek's neck. Their faces were no more than two inches away from each other, neither one of them flinching at the close proximity. Stiles couldn't help but let his eyes dart down, looking at the werewolf's lips. And maybe he was imagining it, but he could've sworn that Derek was leaning in, that they were seconds away from their lips meeting-

"Boys?" Bellona asked as she came down the stairs. "Are you alright down there?"

"Fine!" Stiles exclaimed as he and Derek hastily moved apart. "We're, uh-we're good!"

Bellona eyed them both wearily, but her expression was sly, almost knowing. "It's late. You've both been travelling for awhile, go upstairs and get some rest."

Stiles nodded vigorously. "Yup. Rest. Going now." Derek and he walked towards the kitchen door, both bidding Bellona goodnight.

"After you," Derek waved his hand almost mockingly as Stiles went through the doorway, making Stiles feel lighter, happier.

Stupid gentleman.

***

"Fuckity fuck," Stiles groaned once they'd reached the bedroom, clutching his throbbing abdomen as he stumbled towards the bed.

Derek held him up as he drooped, like a withering flower. "Stiles? Let me see the wound, is that alright?"

Nodding sluggishly, Stiles let Derek lift up his shirt and gently remove the blood-stained bandaging.

"Shit, shit, shit," Stiles muttered under his breath. The stinging of the cut was so painful it made his head spin.

Derek pulled out some cotton pads from his bag on the floor, pouring a small amount of rubbing alcohol. "This is gonna sting, brace yourself."

Without warning, he pressed the cotton pad against Stiles' wound and began to slowly swipe it back and forth. Stiles gripped the bedsheets tautly, biting on his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood.

"Done", Derek said as he finished re-bandaging the cut. "It should heal pretty soon, but take it easy, ok?"

Stiles waved him off. "Yeah, I know."

It went quiet after that. Derek put away the first aid kit supplies back in his bag and pulled out some fresh clothes. Stiles did the same, quickly changing himself and folding his old clothes away.

"Do you...well-do you mind if we, keep up this ruse for the rest of the week?" Stiles asked hesitantly. "You know, the whole...fake dating, thing."

Derek didn't respond for a few seconds, and Stiles could practically feel the beads of sweat rolling down his face. He watched as the werewolf teared off his henley and threw on a tank top, one that seemed impossibly tight, hugging every inch of defined muscle.

Stiles swallowed nervously as he waited for a response. "Derek?"

"You're not mad at me, are you?"

"I-" Stiles frowned at the question. "What?" 

"Earlier" Derek explained. His hands were all jittery, mindlessly tapping his leg. "For snapping at you back there."

"Derek, it's fine," Stiles reassured. "You apologized already, remember?" He said teasingly.

The werewolf nodded, lips quirking up just the slightest bit. 

As he was getting into bed, he watched as Derek took out some spare bedsheets and pillow, unfolding it and placing it on the floor. He fluffed the pillow and placed on top neatly, getting ready to lower himself to rest.

"Wait, Derek, what are you doing?"

Derek stared back with his usually irritated scowl. "Getting ready to sleep."

"I can see that," Stiles drawled on slowly, not having enough energy for the snarky bullshit. "But why on the floor?"

"Where else am I supposed to sleep?"

 _With me_ , Stiles thought. But didn't dare say. _Sleep with me_.

"Well, this bed is huge." He began tentatively. Squirming under the werewolf's piercing stare. "You could-y'know, come here, instead. The floor can't be all that comfortable."

Derek snorted. "Trust me, I've slept in worse places."

Huffing to hide his disappointment, Stiles turned around to lay sideways, reaching a hand out to turn off the light and shrouding the room in darkness.

Despite the next several minutes being in silence, he couldn't sleep. Stiles was tossing and turning so many times he stared to feel dizzy. Night was always the most terrifying time for him, especially ever since the nogitsune decided to wreak havoc on all of their lives. And the nightmares, those horrible visions that plagued his mind whenever he closed his eyes, would never cease to make him shudder awake.

He finally decided on laying on his back, staring at the ceiling in an attempt to bore himself to sleep. Counting all the corners over and over again, Stiles slowly felt himself drift off, and he mentally braced himself for the images that would, inevitably, torment him.

***

Water.

Vast amounts of liquid blue that seemed to stretch on for miles and miles. Stiles was just barely alive, but he could feel himself being pulled under, the water finding it's way into his throat, choking him-

"Stiles? Stiles?"

He gasped as he sat up, gripping the bedsheets as he tried to calm his breathing. Derek stood there next to the bed, both arms reaching out to Stiles but were quickly dropped by his sides.

"Sorry, did I scream again?" His breathing was ragged, face sweaty from the nightmare.

Derek nodded. His bright eyes were a stark contrast to the dark room, and instead of the usually intimidating stare, his gaze was soft, caring. His thick brows were furrowed and he cautiously sat on the edge of the bed, as if worried Stiles would break.

"Are you alright?"

Stiles stayed quiet for at least two minutes. He was always great at keeping up a facade, this sort of mask that forced his lips to smile. But now, all he wanted to do was curl up in a ball and rock his knees back forth. And he began to realise he really _was_ going to break.

"I...yeah. I'm fine." Stiles spoke with uncertainty. "Just-sorry, for waking you up." He turned around to lay on his side, evening out his breathing to pretend he was asleep.

After a few seconds of rustling and creaking, it went silent. Stiles could see Derek laying down comfortably on the floor, and was almost guilty when he broke the peace.

"Derek," his voice a barely above a whisper, but it echoed intensely across the room.

"Yeah, I'm here."

The response was softly muttered. Almost reassuring.

And Stiles did a double take when he realised the werewolf could actually _speak_ like that, so sweetly.

"Do you want to sleep here, instead?"

A moment of stillness. He could hear the sound of his heart thumping, over and over again.

"Do you want me to?"

Stiles screwed his eyes shut. He felt drowsy and sluggish, but he spoke with clarity, his tone desperate and frenzied.

"Yes. Please, Derek."

That was all it took.

The werewolf folded the bedsheets in mere seconds. By the time Stiles turned around to face all the commotion, Derek was lying on the side next to him. The taller man was laying rigidly; like a plank of wood, and Stiles resisted the urge to giggle at how awkward Derek looked.

Maybe it was because of his fatigue, or his aching abdomen, that Stiles felt extremely giddy.

He began to push himself closer and closer to Derek. Soon he was pressed up against him, and decided on placing his head on the werewolf's chest.

Now, normal Stiles would have immediately noticed how Derek seemed to stiffen up at the action. How his breathing started to become more and more shallow when Stiles nuzzled his face in. But alas, at the moment, his brain felt like it had been fried with electricity.

Stiles yawned softly, murmuring, "goodnight sourwolf." And promptly slept as soon as his lids closed.

~.~

Derek watched with an incredulous smile as the younger boy laid a gentle hand on his stomache, resting his head atop Derek's chest. He could feel Stiles' heart beat against him. Hear the quiet sighs of his breathing. The small quirk of Derek's lips grew wider, and he found himself beaming down at Stiles with a fondness he hadn't felt in _years_.

The werewolf let his tiredness get the better of him. His chest's rising and falling began to match that of Stiles: he smiled as he closed his own eyes.

And he too, slept fitfully that night.

***

Stiles stretched leisurely as he woke. The bed felt thick and heavy underneath him, the signs of a deep sleep. With this realisation, he brought his fingers to touch his brow, startled to find no beads of sweat sitting there. His breathing was noticeably less ragged. His body seemingly relaxed; free of all tautness and tensing. He hadn't had a nightmare. Stiles' lips split into a grin.

Not a single one.

A sweet smell wafted through the air, almost making him forget his short-lived happiness. Just then he saw the massive dent on the side next to him. The bedsheet was ruffled with creases, but the bedcover was made hastily, as if whoever it was wanted to get out quickly.

Though still groggy with sleep, a memory surfaced. Stiles remembered laying next to someone, practically on top of them, and clasping onto their chest tightly. He frowned at the recollection.

Limbs wobbly and unsteady, Stiles swung his legs over the bed and stood up, the abrupt action making him stumble a little. He managed to get into the bathroom without tripping over his feet; even walk down the stairs, albeit with clumsiness. As he made his way to the kitchen, the pleasant aroma he could smell was so pungent, Stiles almost felt as though he could taste it: honeyed and balmy.

Once he stepped foot into the room his feet were greeted with cold marble, making him wince at their harsh chill. The air was heavily scented with sweet cooking. 

Standing in the centre of kitchen was Derek, expertly flipping pancakes as he drank a glass of milk. He hadn't seemed to notice Stiles just standing there, or perhaps he didn't care, but Stiles took the oppurtunity stare at the werewolf's ruffled appearence. His usually smoothed dark hair was tousled, and he had pillow creases stamped on is face. A hand rested behind his neck; and he kept rubbing at it with a slightly disgruntled scowl.

"Good morning."

Derek's gaze shot up from the stove and meet his, green eyes boring into him as he walked slowly towards the island.

"I didn't know you could cook," Stiles eagerly stared into the pan; licked his lips.

The werewolf shooed Stiles' greedy hands away from the stove and shook his head wearily at Stiles' incessant compliments. His face was flushed with heat, cheeks stained a light pink. Stiles couldn't help but stare as Derek tried to blink away his tiredness, rub his eyes with a gentle fist whilst failing to smooth his dark disheveled hair. Everything about him was so, _endearing._

Smiling at the thought, Stiles grabbed a plate and fork, before grabbing a stack of pancakes and sitting at the table.

"What is it?"

Stiles blinked, "hmm?". His voice muffled by the breakfast in his mouth.

Derek's brows were furrowed, "what are you grinning at?"

It was then he realised that he never took his eyes off Derek, not once. Beaming and staring like an absolute idiot the entire time.

"Oh," Stiles said sheepishly, swallowing before speaking. " I...it's nothing. Sorry."

Feeling his cheeks heat up, he turned away and continued to eat. The silence was deafening, with only the crackling and sizzling sounds of cooking to keep him company.

Just then a chair's legs scratched against the floor, making Stiles recoil in annoyance. Derek had sat down with a breakfast so monstrously large it made his own look like a miniature happy meal. On either side of the werewolf's plate were glasses of milk, one of which was passed to Stiles.

Derek's eyes narrowed at his raised brows and stared with a disapproving gaze. "Eating an unholy amount of pancakes without a proper liquid is beyond stupid. I don't have time to save you from choking."

"How charming," Stiles quipped back. "And here I was, wondering if you would willing to do the Heimlich maneuver for me."

Derek scowled and jabbed an angry fork into his food. "Idiot", he muttered softly, before engulfing a wad of pancakes.

Stiles murmured faintly.

"Right back at you."

***

"Could you-"

"I'm _trying_ sourwolf. Ok?"

"Well try harder, dammit!"

Stiles grit his teeth. The two of them were cramped in a cloakroom, desperately searching for their shoes. Now both were knee-deep in angrily thrown jackets, robes and scarfs, all littered around the floor.

"You really are an idiot, you know that?"

"Well at least I found one of my shoes!" Stiles thrusted a dirty reebok in the werewolf's face. smiling smugly as he did so.

Derek growled. "I swear to god, if you don't put that away, I'm gonna-"

Stiles continued to wiggle the shoe in front of him, prancing around the compact room like a delusional reindeer. "Gonna do what?" He interrupted with a teasing grin. Derek's hands shot up in aggravated attempts to snatch the reebok, but to no avail, Stiles dodged the grabs, laughing as he did so.

"Stiles, come on," Derek almost sounded amused, and Stiles could've sworn he saw the flash of a grin, positive he heard a gentle chuckle.

"Nope!" 

Just as Stiles was about ram the shoe towards Derek again, the werewolf's arm darted with incredible speed, seizing Stiles' wrist in an almost iron bound grip. He huffed in delight, a smirk making it's way across his face.

"So that's how it is, huh?"

With all his strength, Stiles yanked Derek towards him, using the taller man's colossal weight to create momentum; forcing the other to lose his balance. But it seemed that the worked a little too well.

Stumbling under the werewolf's mammoth frame, Stiles tripped over his feet, legs seemingly tangled, and fell to the ground with a frenzy of curses, "oh crap, shit shit shit-"

He somehow managed to pull Derek down with him, both landing in a pile of clothes as a scrambled, spiderweb of limbs. He let out a small, "oof" as Derek laid on top of him. As he panted, Stiles felt hands cradling the back of his head, tender fingertips grazing against his scalp. 

Once he focused his gaze, Stiles was greeted by a pair of wide, pale green eyes, a parted mouth and walls of muscle. Derek's body practically encased him. And yet, it made Stiles feel safe, as if he was being protected.

"Are you alright?" 

"Yeah," Stiles chuckled breathlessly. "Yeah, I'm ok."

Derek slowly removed his hands, careful not to pull them away harshly, and stood up. The werewolf looked as immensely tall as ever, towering over Stiles as he extended a hand and helped him up.

"Oh, and by the way?" Derek swooped down to pick something from the floor. Then he span around, hefting the object ably and hurtling it towards Stiles' face.

"I found your other shoe."

~.~

It was bustling with people. Which seemed so unusual for a small-town library, that Stiles narrowed his eyes at everyone walking past. Speaking, laughing, tapping, whispering in hushed tones. It made his teeth clench slightly. Or maybe it was the fact that he wasn't really a people person.

"You've been reading for the past hour."

Derek lifted his gaze from the book in his hands. "Thank you for noticing." And promptly returned to his novel.

Scoffing in delight, Stiles browsed through the shelf in front of him. "Sarcasm looks good on you, sourwolf."

After that harrowing experience with that monster before they arrived, Derek and he wanted to understand exactly what that, _thing_ was. Stiles remembered it so vividly. Those impossibly large eyes, shining with the most vicious shade of crimson. It's stature, and it's enormous, ragged wings. The exact colour of the midnight sky.

He laid a hand on his wound; shut his eyes. He could even remember what it felt like to have his skin teared and torn, he could remember his screams and cries, lost in the wind. Stiles' nose wrinkled. And how could he forget the metallic stench of his own blood?

Swallowing heavily and dismissing those memories behind, Stiles broke the serene silence. "I'm gonna try the computers." He walked briskly without waiting for a reply. "See if I can dig anything up."

Thankfully, he managed to find a secluded corner full of vacant chairs and unused computers. Stiles took a seat at the far end and began to hack into the computer's main frame system and poorly built firewall, before his investigating. It took countless searches, websites, and videos to finally find a reasonable amount of information. But nothing had explained what the creature was, or what it was called.

"Stiles."

Derek stood against a bookshelf as he called out to him. Ditching the dark henley sweater, Stiles stared at the werewolf's ridiculously toned arms, taut and muscular. The grey sweatpants he wore didn't seem to help either, tight enough to show his thighs, but baggy enough to not look obscene. "Find anything yet?"

"Nah, not really." Derek walked towards him, leaning over Stiles whilst gripping his chair. 

When Derek spoke, his lips just barely brushed Stiles' ear, the werewolf's breath fanning his face. The close proximity shouldn't have made his heart thump as it did, considering how he literally slept _on top_ of Derek, and yet, just being near him could destroy all rational thought. Literally.

"Try this link." 

Stiles clicked obediently. The texts given were awfully lengthy and long - winded, much to Stiles' dislike. As they both skimmed through the tedious paragraphs, he lifted a curious finger and pressed it against the glass screen. Stiles was pointing to one word. 'Camazotz', the monster was called, a deity of Mayan mythology. The reference pictures given were so startlingly similar to the real thing it made his stomache churn.

Derek began to read the text out loud, lips grazing his ear again. "Camazotz, a bat god, is associated with the night and death."

"Lovely," Stiles muttered.

The corner of the werwolf's mouth lifted at that, but he continued to read along. "Legends claim that, if in absolute despondency and despair, a person could call upon Camazotz and his offspring. Many have come to the god for counsel, to seek his help, with one sole purpose. To kill."

At that shocking and not at all expected information (once in the supernatural world, the only possible way for you to escape would be death, which made being in it all the more enjoyable) Stiles frowned and grimaced. If what they were reading was true, it meant that someone sent this creature with the means to eliminate a person, or thing. He gulped, and if Camazotz was sent to both Derek and he, well, that meant... that meant someone wanted them dead. But Who?

And even more importantly, _why_?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oof, second chapter done!  
> Im so very sorry for the delay, school is a bitch, but ill try to post sooner!  
> Hope you all enjoyed the little mystery twist i added here, wasn't planning to, but you know writing. It's never predictable.  
> *also you can clearly see that Stiles is such a power bottom that wasn't even intentional-*  
> I love comments almost as much as I love food, so please feel free to give me your thoughts on the story so far.  
> Love you all <33


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